


Gray

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:45:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim hears something about his relationship with Blair that he doesn't like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gray

## Gray

by Lily

Author's website:  <http://www.geocities.com/lilyisawake/index.html>

Just because I don't have a clever disclaimer doesn't make them any less, um.not mine.

Although it's a crossover (with Due South), you don't have to know anything about DS, as Ray and Fraser play a small part. (RayK, btw). As for J/m.I wasn't sure about that. Jim goes on a date, no sex. Also, please pardon my French. Literally.

* * *

Vacation day, and I was psyched. Finally it was here, and Jim and I's vacation at the beach with Naomi just a flight away. The workday was through and we were nearly home when we got the call. 

"We'll just check it out, Chief," he said, and I nodded. 

The dirty, stuffy hallway was just like a million others that we'd seen on other similar cases, and inside it wasn't too different, either. Dirty dishes, ashtrays, and beer cans littered the main room, and the bedroom revealed to us why we'd been called. 

The bodies were lying where they'd obviously been dragged, in a haphazard pile. It was really great that some murderers were still courteous enough to straighten things up before they left. 

"How many?" I asked, because I didn't feel like inspecting the tangled mess of arms and legs. 

"Three." His arms crossed against his chest, Jim walked around the bed, careful not to touch any of the bodies. "You all right?" 

"Yeah, yeah, no problem," I said flatly. 

Once we were in the narrow hall I exhaled deeply, weak with relief to be out of the bedroom. Jim was way ahead of me- trying to shield me from anything horrible that might be coming up, probably. "Sandburg, get in here." 

I followed his voice into the other bedroom, a room that appeared to be... 

No way. 

A nursery. A run down, third world version of a nursery, but a room for a baby, nonetheless. Some second hand toys, baby clothes, and in the corner a forlorn looking, maybe because of it's emptiness, faded and splintery looking wooden crib. I groaned again, for like the third time since we got to this hellhole. 

"A baby?" I asked nervously, seeing him scanning the room with his senses. 

He frowned. "They say no." 

"But?" 

"But..." His nostrils flared in concentration, and I could tell there was more. He was amazing to watch, whatever the circumstances. "I think there was. A...toddler. Recently, Blair." 

My breath caught in my throat, because, damn could this get any worse? The room spun for a moment, and I stumbled to a window, yanking it open for some fresh air. 

I swallowed, forcing myself to do my job. "Anything else?" 

"No..." he says, as though he's not sure, and I see his eyes starting to get a little hazy. With a hand on his arm, I keep him from drifting and he follows me into the hall. 

When he pronounced us finished with our look around, we started to leave, but at the closet by the front door, we both heard a scrabbling, whimpering sound, and you definitely didn't need to be a Sentinel to hear it. I froze. The baby, I thought. 

And Jim took the initiative, even if he was thinking the same thing that I was. I couldn't move, couldn't look as he opened the closet door and knelt down to inspect whatever was making that pitiful sound. 

"Shit!" I swore, relieved and disturbed all at once that it was not a baby, but a- puppy. A tiny, neglected puppy that shook with fear and probably malnutrition. Jim pulled it out by the loose skin on its neck and with an expression of disgust, dryly replied, 

"Yeah, that's what it smells like." And I couldn't even laugh. It was too sad. 

"I'm gonna try to find out a little more," he said, rising and taking the pup up with him effortlessly. That was one thing I admired about Jim. He was a good dresser, always neat and clean in expensive but not ungodly-expensive clothes, but he didn't forget who he was. He didn't mind getting down and dirty on the job, grabbing bloody felons, crawling through the dirt, mud, holding snotty, tear streaked children up against his leather jacket...he didn't care. And it was the same thing with that nasty puppy, he just held it to his chest, ignoring the fur that was matted with- Yuck. I shuddered. 

"I'll just be, uh...in the hall," I told him, and for a while I watched him from the doorway. I could tell from their body language and rising voices that they were telling him to butt out, it wasn't his case, and there was no kid, but he wasn't the type to back down. He had to have all the facts first. After a while the arguing got old and I wandered out into the hall. Several doors slammed, and I shook my head, amused in spite of the fact that these nosey neighbors rarely gave up any information. But one door remained cracked open, a pair of curious eyes peering out. Clear, guiltless eyes. 

"Hey," I called out, holding out my hands to show that I didn't have a weapon. After a few seconds, the eyes became a head, and slowly, an old woman emerged, regarding me suspiciously. 

She glanced down the hall, wiping her hands on her apron, the only indication of her nervousness. 

"Avez-vous vu le bebe ?" she asked accusingly, pointing at the blocked off crime scene. 

Shit. French wasn't one of my biggest talents. I rummaged through my memory, back to tenth grade French. Bebe . The baby. So Jim had been right. 

"Um, Qui...sont les parents du bebe?" I was pretty darned proud, and even though it wasn't exactly the question that I'd wanted to ask, it was the only one that I could find all the words to. And it was moderately important that we know who the baby belonged to, if there was indeed a baby. 

Her head was bound by a colorful scarf, and she scowled, tucking a few stray hairs back underneath the cloth. "Policiers! Ils sont inutiles." Her opinion of cops reminded me of Naomi. 

"I'm not a policeman," I told her, hoping that this might charm her, as it had many people in the past. And lucky me, it worked again, because her face softened a little just as Jim came out, pissed off and crackling with unspent energy. He'd be in the gym late tonight for sure. 

She looked at him, then at me, and finally addressed me. "Cet homme peut trouver le bebe." She pointed a shaky finger heavy with jewelry straight at Jim. _This man can find the baby._ It gave me chills, really. Because even though it could've been a wild guess, I had the distinct feeling that she _knew_ that Jim could, and why. 

"We on the case?" I asked him, wondering when she was going to put that finger down. It had to be freaking Jim out. The enormous fake ruby on one of her gaudy rings caught the light, reflecting it from every facet; a perfect source for a spectacular zoneout. 

"No. I guess it was nothing." He shrugged, looking uneasy. After all this time, he still didn't always trust his senses, no matter how often they were right. 

I shrugged, too, regretfully, at the old woman. "Sorry. We can't help." Her finger swung toward me, poking me in the chest. 

"Cet homme peut trouver le bebe!" she repeated, then for clarification: "This man!" 

"I, I uh know, but ma'am, I'm not even a cop. I don't have any control over it, I'm sorry." If I was nervous then, I got even more nervous when she suddenly dropped the threatening finger and smiled knowingly. 

"Ah, but you have l'eminence grise." Her head tipped toward Jim, and she nodded again with a low chuckle, as though we shared a private joke. Then she turned with a flourish of her heavy skirts and was gone. 

"Done getting your fortune told?" Jim teased without smiling. He just wanted to get out of there. 

"I, uh." 

"Let me guess, she foresees trouble with women." 

I would've had a good comeback, but just then I noticed the lump in Jim's coat. The small, moving lump in his coat. 

The small, moving, whimpering lump in his coat. 

"Jim." 

He studiously unlocked the truck and climbed inside. Ignoring me, no doubt. Like I wasn't going to notice? Wasn't going to say anything? Riiiight. 

"Jim, why isn't animal control taking the dog?" 

He opened his coat and a tiny head poked out, sniffing at Jim's offered hand. He scratched the little pup's head and shrugged. "Because." 

"That is not an answer," I countered, but still took the dog from his arms so that he could drive. "You know, he kind of looks like a-" 

"Wolf, yeah. I thought so, too." He looked away from the road just long enough to give the dog an affectionate glance. 

"Jim..." I felt that I should intervene, warn him, something. But I didn't know about what. He seemed to be floating, drifting on a plane that was neither here nor there. I wondered if he was safe to drive, but he seemed to be doing all right, so I kept quiet and felt the thumpthumpthump of the pup's chest against my palm. So fast, and I stroked his neck with my thumb as though that could slow it down. "Are we going to keep him?" 

"Her." 

"Huh?" 

We pulled up to the loft and Jim skillfully parked between two cars that were too close together. "Her," he answered, reaching for her. "It's a she." 

Too bizarre. 

"You've never really shown any interest in animals before," I said cautiously. 

"Nope." 

"But you want to keep this dog...as a pet?" 

I held the door to the loft open for him and he went straight to the bathroom and began drawing a bath. For the dog, I presumed. "I don't know," he called out over the sound of rushing water. "And before you ask, no, it's not a Sentinel thing. I just felt like bringing her home. I thought we could take care of her until..." He trailed off, probably because he hadn't really thought this out very much. 

Man. I sat down on the couch, hard, smiling widely. Not just because he'd said "We," but because of the way he cradled the pup in his hands while carrying her around. I could hear splashing and Jim's soothing words coming from the bathroom. God, the things that you never knew about someone. Like the fact that Jim had a paternal streak in him the size of the Mississippi River. 

"Hey, I should go get puppy stuff," I said from the doorway of the bathroom. Jim was on his knees, stripped down to his undershirt so his clothes wouldn't get wet as he bent over the side of the tub. 

"Yeah, could you?" He was using my shampoo on the dog. For some reason, I didn't complain. "I have cash in my wallet, just take whatever you need." 

"Whatever I need, got it." I grinned and headed out for the store. 

* * *

A few hours later, the pup was snoring in a makeshift bed that consisted of Jim's shirt and an old towel, and we were elbow deep in the case from this afternoon. Simon had faxed over the information that the detectives on the case had uncovered, which really wasn't much, and we were sitting at the table, trying to make sense of it. 

I pulled out my glasses to look over some of the smaller print. "So, none of the people found dead lived at the apartment?" 

"Nope." He pushed a folder toward me. "But here's something. The three men found at the scene all had one thing in common." 

I took the folder, scanning as quickly as I could, pulling the main information out from the paragraphs. "All dog breeders?" 

"Yeah." 

Neither of us spoke for a few minutes, still rifling through the papers, hoping to find something that made sense. I took out my laptop and got online, but really it was just something to do while I thought. 

"Any ideas?" Jim asked, stretching and cracking his back. "Because it sure doesn't make any sense to me. Seven dead dog breeders, a missing tenant, and a baby that may or may not exist." 

I licked my lips, thinking of the old woman. "Jim, about the baby. I really think that we should look into this. No one else is looking, and you sensed something." 

"Maybe I did." He said absently, looking toward the corner where the puppy slept. "Maybe not." 

"Yes, Jim, you did. And that old woman asked me about a baby. It wasn't just that, though. I felt an....energy from her. It's hard to explain, but I believe her." 

His eyes were on me now, looking right through me, weighing all of the information we had, and probably thinking of my past record, which I'm proud to say speaks for itself. 

"Chief, there's an actual murder here. Three of them." 

So much for my stellar record. 

"Jim, listen to me. You have to trust your instincts. You knew that there was a kid, and the kid is gone. Now, if you want in on this case, and I know that you do otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here at midnight trying to figure it out, then you'll listen to me. You're a protector; you can't let this go. That's why you brought the dog home, Jim, you couldn't find the kid, so you did the next best thing." 

He didn't reply for a few seconds, and then nodded slowly. "I thought that I smelled something." A few more seconds, then- "I smelled something. There'd been a kid there, a year...eighteen months, tops. 

I nodded, covering his hand with mine. He'd let me, wouldn't ask questions if I were leading him, and I rubbed softly on the back of his hand to get his attention, only to freeze when I got it, searching blue eyes on mine. 

God, he thought that I had answers. He didn't trust himself, so he was trusting me. 

L'minence grise. Lucky me. 

"Jim. Look at the files again." My words were uneasy but he obeyed, anyhow. "Tomorrow we'll ask Simon if we can get on this officially. If not, then unofficially." 

He nodded, and I got online. I played around a bit looking for information on the dog breeders while he stared, frowning, at a copy of the apartment lease. 

"Hey, Jim, These guys specialized in breeding Saarloos Wolf Dogs. I'll bet that's what this little guy is." I pointed at the little furry ball in the corner, and Jim followed my gaze. 

"Girl, Sandburg," He grunted, but he pushed away from the table and padded quietly over to the object of our conversation. "Hey tiger," he crooned as he scooped her up. Some people were just sickening with the way they spoke to animals, but Jim wasn't like that. His voice was soft and musical, but not the kind of baby talk that made you embarrassed for the recipient of the attention. She had that sleepy puppy look when she sluggishly raised her head and looked up at his face, confused. Jeez. Surely he didn't think that we were going to keep her. An odd sensation fluttered in my throat, my stomach as he rubbed his cheek on the top of her head. 

"Jim," I was startled by the urgency of my own voice, so I wasn't surprised when the pup lurched and wiggled in those solid, sheltering arms. "Ahem. Sorry. It's just that-we can't keep her." 

He calmed her with long strokes from head to tail, and a few minutes later, when I was already back into my research, said offhandedly- "Why not?" For a second I thought he might beg, but his hand skated over her head again, fingers curling to fondle a silky ear. 

I frowned, shutting my laptop. I'd never seen Jim like this before, and God Almighty it was sweet. Weird, but sweet 

"Because. Because...this kind of dog can't be kept in small spaces, it wouldn't be right. Dogs of this breed need a pack, at least one other dog. And no, my spirit wolf doesn't count." He returned my grin, but the disappointment lingered in his eyes. 

"I know," he sighed. He settled on the couch, letting the pup do her pre-settling turns on his lap until she found the right position in which to lie. 

"Guess what else I found at the store?" I said gleefully, and hurried to the kitchen, where the shopping bag sat on the counter. 

"I can't even imagine," he replied wryly, and I chuckled. 

I presented him grandly with my gift, watching his face for a reaction. 

He examined them and tried to keep the scowl on his face. "Q-Tips, Chief?" 

"No, not Q-Tips, Jim, they're Sentinel brand Senti-Swabs." 

"Why's there a pigeon on the front?" 

I peered over at the box. "No, that's a _dove_ , Jim. Not a pigeon" 

"Why?" 

"Hell if I know. Maybe they make the Senti-swabs out of dove down for _sensitive_ men like you." I managed to make "sensitive" somehow sound like an insult and ducked just in time to avoid being clobbered by the box, which was immediately scrambled after by the puppy. She chewed the cardboard with enthusiasm. 

"I almost forgot," he said, breaking his entrancement with the dog for a second. "What was it that that old lady was saying to you? She said that you have M&M's?" 

I laughed. "L'eminence grise," I started to reply with my best French accent, then stopped short. The moment that had passed between she and I in the darkened hall seemed private, intimate, and I found myself reluctant to share it. But if I refused, then he'd never let it go. 

"It means...more or less..." I trailed off trying to find a tactful way to explain it. 

"What? Great hair? A pink aura? A piece of spinach in your teeth?" He really needed to work on his patience. 

"It means that while you may have the direct power, for instance, the badge, or the Senses- I wield a certain degree of power over you and your opinions, actions, the decisions that you make." 

The look on his face was priceless, really. I could see the wheels turning, and they were slowing to a stop right in the vicinity of offended scorn. 

"Oh, so you have some kind of power over me?" he asked in disbelief. 

"More of an influence," I rephrased, hoping that this might help his wounded pride. Inside I was grinning, though, because I'd known that he was going to have this reaction. "An influence that isn't necessarily acknowledged by outsiders, with secrecy implied." 

He snorted again and I knew he was just sitting there forming his rebuttal, because God forbid anyone have any kind of influence over the tremendously self-sufficient Jim Ellison. 

"Well, it kind of makes sense," I told him, shrugging. "I am your...partner. And I have influences over you that people don't know about." 

"Whatever, Sandburg," he mumbled. It was quiet for a while, then he did what he did best: Changed the subject. 

"So. You mind going over it one more time?" he asked, still distracted by what I'd said. "Dog breeders dead. Baby missing. A kidnapper? That doesn't make sense, though, because where would the bodies come in? They probably bred this one," he added. Her pointy ears perked up at that, like she knew we were talking about her. 

"Probably." I'd assumed that this was a foregone conclusion, but Jim...he was so sharp, and I don't just mean with the senses. 

"But then why would they leave her, why would they neglect her? These dogs are worth a lot of money. It doesn't make sense." 

"Maybe she wasn't valuable. Tainted, somehow? Are you thinking that maybe she isn't as pure as she was supposed to be?" 

He shrugged, gazing down at her with fondness. Much to my annoyance, it reminded me of the way that he looked at me sometimes. Detective Ellison and his two loyal companions. 

Shit. 

"It just had all the markings of 'deal gone bad'," he was saying, and I tried to pay attention. 

"Did you smell drugs?" 

"No..." 

"Weapons, maybe?" 

He shook his head. "No, not other than the gun that was used. But still...I can't...I don't know." 

"So, you think that the dog might be the goods?" 

"Maybe." 

"And the collateral was..." 

"Probably money." 

"Yeah. Money." It made sense but something didn't seem right. Maybe it was the rundown apartment, which meant that the owner couldn't have had any cash. So what did they have? 

Our eyes met at the same moment, and I loved him for the horrified expression that I knew mirrored mine. I loved him for being so quick and sensitive; for not being so jaded that things didn't still get to him. 

"The baby," I breathed, and his whole face changed as he nodded his agreement. Hard, now, set against the ugly truth of humanity. Ready to go out and do his best to change it. 

"Trading dogs for babies?" He shook his head, and the puppy whimpered in distress, licking at his bicep, a small pink flicker against the muscled arm. 

"We'll get them, Jim. You can find them." 

"How do you know?" 

"Because she said so." 

* * *

It was after midnight but I couldn't sleep; not because of the disturbing case, either, which made me feel worse. Guilty. Because instead of thinking of the missing baby and the poor neglected puppy snuggled up near my pillow, my pride was obsessing over something that was probably far less significant. 

L'eminence grise. 

How did I feel about that, anyhow? Not good, of course. It wasn't that I didn't know that it was partially true, but I didn't want other people to know. Egomaniacal as it might be, _I_ wanted to be the one in charge, the one making the decisions...but the fact was I couldn't always do that without Blair. 

We were supposed to be leaving for the beach tomorrow, and instead Sandburg had agreed to put it off without argument. No, he'd _insisted._ "Who else is going to look for a baby that no one knows is missing?" he'd reasoned, and I couldn't argue. 

I know it wasn't right, but I'd listened to him the night before, on the phone with Naomi. Okay, eavesdropped, if you want to nitpick the details of it. 

"Ohh, sweetie," she'd sighed, disappointed but sympathetic, and I could've kicked myself, kicked Naomi, kicked Blair, because the sweetness between the two of them just staggered me, and I envied him that so much. 

I could feel the vibrations of his voice on my skin if I really listened. When he was excited or scared his voice got higher, but at times like this, it was...thick, rich, so serious. And at that moment, in that voice was reflected all of the weariness and resignation that was caused by this life. My life. 

"Mom..." I stopped listening, dialing down to avoid hearing their disappointment. 

The next morning I rose early, but still too late to take the puppy out. I'd awakened in the middle of the night to a wet spot on the corner of my bed. 

"Jim!" Blair called the second I reentered the loft, before I even had my coat off. "I have an idea about the dog." 

"Let me guess, you want to take the next turn cleaning up after her?" 

"Noooo," he chuckled, sweeping his hair over his shoulder. It was long now, longer than I'd ever seen it. Not girly, though. In fact, it looked even more masculine to me now, because it was past the poofy length that women wore their hair, and was more the style of the Chopec men, the sheer abundance of it weighing it down neatly. 

He was holding his address book, paging through the worn out, wrinkled pages. "I thought of someone who might be able to take our little princess here. I have an old friend who happens to live and work in wide open spaces _and_ he has another dog similar to this one here and Jim we've really got to give her a name." He finished the sentence all in one breath, then inhaled loudly, waiting for my reply. 

"I don't know, Chief..." 

"About a name?" 

"No, you're right about that. I meant about the person that you want to just turn her over to." 

"Because I wasn't eavesdropping or anything, but I heard you call her princess a couple times last night, and I think that's a good enough name. For now." He rattled right along, ignoring my misgivings like a pro. 

"Sandburg," I warned, and he threw his arms up in the air in concession. 

"We can't keep her, Jim. And I know you won't take her to a shelter. So, I think that a good compromise would be to call up my friend and see if he's willing to, um," he grinned, prodding, prompting me, wanting me to lighten up, "add another member to his pack." 

I looked down at Princess, which is how I'd already been thinking of her anyway. 

"Jim, I wouldn't suggest him if he weren't a good guy. A good owner for her. He's RCMP, they don't come any more honorable than that, right?" 

The coffee smelled good, really incredible, and I wondered if he'd done something to it. He'd already poured me a cup, too, so it wouldn't be too hot. He must really want this guy to take the dog, I thought, and nodded, letting the warmth of the coffee seep into my hands. "A Mountie, huh?" 

He picked up the phone and raised his eyebrows, asking me wordlessly what I wanted to do. I nodded. I didn't even really listen to his conversation, because I'd gotten into a conversation of my own with Princess, over whether or not she would be eating out of the trash. 

"Sit," I told her. "Sit." She waggled her bottom and growled at me, lunging again for the garbage can. 

When Blair came out of the bedroom where he'd gone for privacy, there was a bounce in his step. "This is great, it's fantastic, Jim. He's going to come down here right away." He smoothed a stray curl back behind his ear. "It's been so long since I've seen him, man. Can he stay here at the loft?" 

"Must be quite a guy, Chief," I said, amused. Maybe he wouldn't be so down about missing the Naomi now. One thing about Blair, he didn't dwell on the negative. He wasn't one for pouting or moping, which was good because I've certainly given him plenty of reasons to in our time together, as partners. 

"Oh, he is. We met when I was in Chicago to hear Dr. Stanley Atlas speak at a weekend-long seminar. The second day, he did a session on Inuit folklore, and that's where I met Benton." 

"Chicago?" 

"Yeah." He grinned up at me, standing right in my space where he could ruffle Princesses fur. She was snuggled in my arms, as entertained by watching Sandburg as I was. She nipped at him, and he jumped back.. 

"Anyways..." he continued, eyeing her warily, "He lived there at the time, worked at the consulate, but the thing is, somehow he got partnered up...unofficially, of course, with a Chicago PD Detective. 

"And?" 

"How do you know that there's an 'and'?" he asked, annoyed. 

"Isn't there?" 

"Yeah," he admitted, busying himself with cleaning up the breakfast dishes. "The thing is, that his partner from Chicago, the cop? He moved back to Canada with Fraser. And he wanted to know if his partner could come, too?" 

"Sure." I shrugged. Not a big deal, we'd probably be gone half the time working out this case, anyhow. 

"And..." 

"Jesus Christ, Sandburg, there's another 'and'?" 

"Yes. Well, no. Not really. Just a small thing. Not really a thing at all, actually," he babbled. "It's just that Benton and Ray aren't work partners anymore. They're personal partners." 

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"It means that they're a couple," he answered impatiently. 

Oh. I thought about this for a few seconds. "So?" 

"Just wanted you to know, that's all." He shrugged guiltily, and I uneasily wondered if maybe he had mentioned it for a more personal reason. A reason that I'd tried very hard to keep private. 

"Sandburg, unless they're going to be going at it on the kitchen table, then it's really none of my business." 

"Um, I don't think that'll be a problem," he grinned at me, then disappeared into his room. As soon as he was gone, I thought of something. 

"Hey, Sandburg!" 

"What?" I could tell by the muffled voice that he was getting changed, his shirt halfway over his head, his hair all tangled inside the garment. 

"That wasn't one of those eminence things, I just want you to know. I'm letting this guy come because I want a good home for the dog." 

"What?" He finally emerged, all puzzled and rumpled. 

"You didn't influence me," I repeated, sounding like a child even to myself. "It was my decision." 

And then I was caught in his widening eyes, disbelief, amusement...it was all in there, and I swiped at the back of my neck, willing away the warm blush that I found there. I never should've said anything. "Forget it," I growled, and grabbed my keys. "You ready?" 

He gathered back his hair and pulled on his jacket, laughing at me the whole time. 

By lunch we hadn't gotten very far, other than a list of people to question about the kid. Simon thought we were crazy, but gave us the go-ahead to discreetly investigate. 

"Want to get something to eat?" I asked Jim, and watched him watch me adjust my hair. I didn't wear it down often now that it was so long. It seemed lately like it was bothering him. I'd caught him looking at it several times, and always with a distant frown. Maybe he thought it was too much trouble, or too feminine. Either way, I wasn't cutting it. 

"Sure." He wrote one last thing on his notes and threw down the pencil. 

"Chinese?" 

"Let's go for subs." No discussion, nothing, subs it was. It struck me as strange because he'd chosen yesterday so it was my turn and on top of that, he didn't like the sub place down the street. He had specifically told me that the lunch shift girl didn't wash her hands. So why would he...ohhhhh. Understanding dawned. I shook my head as I followed him out, hurrying to keep up. 

"Jim. Jim. Jim." Finally he stopped and turned oh so casually, stretching his back in a way that I knew meant he was sore. He got that way when he sat at the desk for too long. 

"What." 

"Are you...are you turning down Chinese because I suggested it? Because of what I said yesterday about my influence?" 

"Look, can't I just want a sandwich, Sandburg? Let's just go pick something up and get out to the first interview, all right? Without beating this subject to death, please." His jaw twitched and I knew that it wasn't worth pursuing right now. 

"Sure man, let's go." 

Jim couldn't hide the fact that he barely touched his food, but I didn't say anything. Eventually this would blow over, Jim would realize that it wasn't worth wasting time worrying about. 

The sky had grown dark and dangerous while we were in the restaurant, and by the time we got to the home of one of the dead breeders, it was nearly black. The truck jerked occasionally as we drove, caught by powerful gusts of wind. 

"Want to just head home?" I asked, knowing that we were due for a big storm, according to the weather channel. Freezing rain and lots of ice on the roads. 

He looked at me for a second, then took the Shawnee exit toward our interviewee's home. Ooookay. That answered my question, and our silence was slowly dissolved by the harsh pelts of rain which quickly turned into a torrent of water from the sky. 

He slowed down after the second time we'd hydroplaned, but I didn't say anything, because God forbid he might accuse me of trying to influence him into safe and reasonable driving. 

It didn't even matter in the long run, because no one was home, and even though we decided to wait in the truck for a while, the wife didn't show up. 

"I wonder what Princess is doing right now," I mused out loud, wiping some fog from the window. 

"Probably chewing up those sandals you like so much...or pissing on the floor." He gave me a smirk and started the truck. "We're wasting our time- no one's coming." 

"You're right, you know," he said when we were about halfway home. "There's no way that we can keep her. She's not housetrained, we can't go home and let her out regularly..." 

"You wanted to keep her, didn't you?" Strange, that he felt that way, because I'd never known Jim to have those kinds of feelings about animals or children. Maybe I didn't know Jim as well as I thought I did. 

He shrugged. 

"She'll be happy with Ben and Dief." 

"Who's Dief?" 

I'd wanted to distract him from his melancholy, and it seemed to be working. "Ben's wolf. He's great, Jim, you should see, Ben takes him along everywhere, even in Chicago. Of course, I've heard that he's much more content up in the wide open spaces." 

My clothes felt itchy and cold from the few minutes we'd stood in the rain getting soaked as we fruitlessly rang the doorbell, and I shifted, trying to get more comfortable. I noticed him fidgeting in his seat, too. 

"Should've brought those poncho things," I said, and he nodded, scratching his neck, finally letting his discomfort show. I studied him while he drove, and made a note to myself to stop griping about petty things like comfort around Jim. 

I cranked the heat up and settled back, letting the streams of water on the windows wash away my worries. I watched the drops turn to rivers, frantically making their way down the glass, and drifted in my own thoughts. Dogs, babies, Naomi, Benton Fraser... 

"What." Jim startled me out of my thoughts. 

"Huh?" 

"You're smiling over there." 

I pulled myself back to the moment, suddenly exhausted. "Yeah, I was thinking about Ben and Dief. You'll like Ben, I think." 

"What about his partner, Ray?" 

"Just keep your eyes off Ben's ass, and you'll get along like old friends," I grinned. 

He glared at me. 

We pulled into our parking lot and made a run for the door, my feet splashing into several deep puddles despite my efforts. My socks were squishing by the time we got inside. 

"No mess," I observed after I'd shed my wet clothes. I'd expected shredded objects and foul smells. 

"Nope. I gave that kid down the hall five bucks to check in on her every hour or so, take her outside and stuff." 

"Good idea," I said, hurling my wadded ball of clothes into the hamper. Brrrr. The floor felt cold, my hair, skin, everything was freezing. "Mind if I get the first shower?" 

He was already on the floor playing with the pup, with that big, goofy grin on his face. 

* * *

"Ow!" Sharp little teeth cut into my arm, and I gently pried Princesses mouth open, chiding, "No! No biting." We continued our game of tug and war with an old sock, and I thought about what Sandburg had said. 

He'd been right. Part of me wanted to keep the dog. It was the same part that couldn't stop thinking about that baby. I tossed the sock and watched her little furry behind as she bounced after it. 

"Jim!" Sandburg hollered from the shower, "I forgot a washcloth- can you get one for me?" Sighing, I went to the closet and pulled a thick green washcloth from the shelf. 

"What do you do when I'm not here, drip water all over the floor?" I complained as I entered the steamy room, but I didn't really mind. I could make out his form through the cloudy glass, soaping up his hair with both hands. My gaze slid downward, curiously looking at the rest of his body while his eyes were squinted closed. While I was watching, a soapy hand pushed the shower door open and reached out blindly, fingers grasping in the air. Shit. I shoved the washcloth into his hand and retreated hastily. 

"Thanks, man." 

I'd just been looking. There's nothing wrong with looking. And it wasn't even like I'd been looking to get my jollies or anything, I'd just wanted to see what Blair looked like. Just to see. I spent about twenty minutes building up an superfluous defense for what had happened in the bathroom before I started making dinner. I didn't have to explain myself, I thought angrily, bringing a ladle down onto the counter with a clatter, then forced it out of my mind. 

The phone brought me out of my unwanted thoughts, and it was Simon with news about the case. Maybe. 

"Who was that?" Blair asked when he came out rubbing his hair with a towel- the yellow one, the one that he always used when he was cold. Sometimes I think that I notice things about Blair too much, and then I get worried that other people will notice me noticing. Once I'd torn him to pieces in the bullpen because Megan caught me watching his ass while he was getting a file. Pretty shitty, I know. I just didn't want anyone to say anything to him about it. 

"Simon. They found a body, dumped in Kenyon Park. They think it's the woman the apartment was leased out to. Still waiting for the final word, though." 

"Damn," he breathed, staring down at Princess. "I wish you'd gotten a chance to check out the scene." 

"Yeah, but the rain," I gestured at the window, frustrated. What a wasted day. No vacation, no luck with our investigation, and...something else that I couldn't put my finger on. 

Oh yeah. That gray eminence stuff; the cause of the nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I was not anyone's puppet. 

* * *

By the time that lunch rolled around the next day, I could barely contain my restlessness. It was still raining, hard. Ben was due to arrive any minute, and Jim and I both were waiting for the call with the final word on the body. We'd cancelled our vacation plans for this case, so it was hard to not get all wrapped up in it. 

"Settle down, Sandburg," Jim growled, and Princess growled, too, pacing around with me. "You're making her nervous. And besides, here come your friends." 

I flung open the door right as they were about to knock and grabbed a surprised Benton in a hug. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ray and Jim sizing one another up, and while I was shaking Ray's hand I caught Jim was using his senses on both of them. I made a mental note to have a talk with Jim about trust later on. 

"Jim, meet Benton Fraser and Ray-er, Stanley Kowalski. Ray and Ben-my partner, Jim Ellison." 

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Benton said graciously, moving toward Jim and taking his hand. 

Princess stood at the top of the stairs yapping in indignation because of her inability to handle the steps, and Jim carried her down, reluctantly bringing her to Ben. It was unexpectedly hard to watch, the way he held her out like an offering, wanting to do the right thing but not wanting to give her up. 

One thing about Ben, he was good with people, and this was no exception. He caught every nuance and moved only so close to Jim, getting a good look at Princess. "So this is the pup," he exclaimed, impressed, nodding. Responding to Ben the way most people did, Jim suppressed a proud smile. "She's quite good looking," Ben appraised. "May I?" 

Jim nodded and put her down, where she set about sniffing out the two strangers until that grew tiresome, and she went straight back to Jim, plopping her furry bottom down on the floor next to his feet. 

Her ears perked when Fraser spoke again. "I think that Diefenbaker will find her just as attractive. I dare say that she'll flourish in a...more suitable environment, Detective Ellison." 

"Jim." 

"Jim." Ben repeated. 

"It's true, Jim. Dief's as happy as a Mountie in an icebox up there," he grinned, leaning down and scratching at Princesses head. 

"Ray," Ben frowned. "I don't actually-" 

"-Yeah, yeah, so what say we go get something to eat?" Ray ignored him, this exchange probably as old and familiar as the one between Jim and I about house rules. Just idle banter that didn't mean anything other than that we like each other. 

We were almost out the door when the phone rang. Simon. 

"We've got the results on that body." I knew that Jim was listening, and our eyes locked for a second, waiting. 

"It's the tenant of the apartment where the bodies were found, all right. Madeline Riggs, twenty eight years old...I'll fax you over the details, but the gist of it is that she was killed by the same gun that killed the three other men in her apartment. Just thought you might want to know. I also want you to know," he added, "that the two of you are still on vacation and not on this case. I'll try to keep you updated, though. Stay out of trouble." 

"Okay Simon, thanks," I mumbled. 

"Work?" Ray asked, popping a piece of gum in his mouth. 

"Sorta," I answered, not sure what Jim felt comfortable sharing about the case. 

It turned out that he was more comfortable than I'd thought, because we spent most of lunch discussing the case. Fraser and Ray listened intently, and Ray had a few interesting suggestions on "almost legal" ways to obtain information from different sources. 

Jim chewed his food thoughtfully, nodding as he listened to their ideas, even smiling a time or two at Ray's somewhat colorful views of what had gone down. 

It was a nice lunch, filled with quick conversation and comfortable silences. The conversation was good, but the most _interesting_ part of the meal came when we were almost finished. I was asking the waitress for more iced tea, when Ray leaned close to Ben, whispering something in his ear that made Benton blush down to his roots. His lips moved right against Benton's ear as he spoke, and imagining how that would feel, I found myself shivering at the reality of partners, _partners_ , and the vast space in between. 

A glance at Jim, who was staring straight down at his plate alerted me to the fact that he'd probably heard what Ray had said, and I tsk tsk'd at him under my breath, knowing that his hearing was turned up. 

"That's what you get," I muttered reprovingly, and he gave me a long, uncomfortable look before turning his complete attention back to his salad. He didn't eat any of it. 

* * *

I was dead tired by the time we got back to the loft. Blair had taken Benton to Rainier to show him some artifact that they couldn't wait until tomorrow to see. Ray had passed on the show and tell, and I brought him back to the loft with me. 

"Coffee?" I offered, throwing the old filter in the garbage. 

"Nothin' I'd like more right now," he declared, sauntering into the kitchen and draping his lean frame against the counter. I was starting to like this guy, he wasn't like most detectives I knew. He was looser, realer...less stressed out. "Don't tell Frase, ok?" He grinned at me conspiratorially. "He thinks it's bad for me to drink coffee at night. Says it makes me fidgety or somethin'." He shrugged, and I grinned back. 

"You call Benton by his last name," I remarked as I got the cups out of the cabinet. 

"Yeah, so?" 

"It just seems odd, that's all. Since you're...partners." 

He hooked his thumbs into the loops of his jeans thoughtfully. "Well, you call Blair by his last name," he pointed out. 

I looked him over to see if he was being snide or facetious, but he was just waiting for me to reply. "But. It's not." I felt myself frowning, knee-deep in a conversation that I couldn't remember why I'd started in the first place. "We're not lovers," I said, to show him that I wasn't afraid to say the words. 

A gleeful chuckle burst out of Ray, and he slapped his hand on the counter. "I know," he said, running his hand through his spiky hair. "I'm just playing with ya." 

"Funny," I growled. 

He was unimpressed. "But," he added slyly, rubbing his chin, "There are _certain_ times when I call him Ben, I guess ..." 

I should've seen that one coming, and turned to give him a black look. He winked at me and shoved his coffee cup forward. "I'm gonna need a truckload of sugar," he said, and I prayed that this wasn't some kind of Canadian euphemism. 

We decided to watch some TV, when there was an insistent rapping at the door, and I glanced at the clock. Nine forty-five, pretty late for visitors. Before I reached the door, a smile stretched across my face. Blair was going to be ecstatic. 

"Jim!" Naomi exclaimed, smiling that innocent smile that Blair had been so lucky to inherit. It always felt good to take her in my arms, feel her soft, sweet smelling skin and listen to the compliments and praises that she had for me. 

"Oh, you have company!" she exclaimed when we parted. "I hope you have room for me." She was already whooshing around in the kitchen, boiling up something to add to the ziplock bag full of herbs that she pulled from her purse. 

"Jim, you're going to love this," she said, "Would you like some, young man?" 

"Uh." Ray looked uncomfortable as he got to his feet, standing uncertainly in the living room. He'd probably never done well around parents, I thought. Just didn't seem the type. But Naomi was no ordinary parent. "No thanks, Ms. Sandburg." 

A burst of girlish laughter filled the loft, and I crossed my arms, smiling. 

"Naomi," she corrected, then added, "you sweet thing." 

"Now, where's my Bl-" 

"Mom!" Blair rushed straight to Naomi, throwing himself into her arms. My embrace had been regulated by my own idea of how long and how close was acceptable, but Blair sank into her embrace, burying his face in her shoulder and staying there for long minutes while she fussed over how beautiful he was, how smart he was, and so on. He had no such regulations, no holding back- he just looked into her sparkling adoring eyes and reveled in it. 

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked, remaining in his mother's arms, smiling and shaking his head. 

"I came to see my two boys, of course!" she beamed at both of us, then swept into the kitchen again, moving the teapot to a different burner. "Now, who wants some of my special brew?" I wondered briefly about _how_ special the brew was, but with Naomi it always seemed pointless to argue. I did smell a few questionable ingredients in the thick scent, but in such small amounts that I settled for pointing to it and raising an eyebrow, just to remind her that I _was_ a cop, after all. 

Blair made the introductions all around, practically bouncing with happiness. The rest of the evening was a blur of catching up, lighthearted arguing between partners, and Naomi making a cooing fuss over the puppy. I discovered that it seemed to be a game with Ray to see how deeply he could make Fraser blush, and didn't care how much Naomi scolded him for it. 

Finally, we were all yawning, and Naomi asked where she'd be sleeping. We'd never put up this many people before...actually, I'd never had more than one overnight guest before Blair. And they had always been women, sharing my bed. 

Blair looked to me, and I shrugged. Naomi usually stayed in Blair's bed, but since Blair had gotten a double size, Ray and Fraser were staying in his room. 

"Ray and Ben are staying in my room, mom," Blair began, "So-" 

"Then I'll stay on the couch." She stood up and stretched, smiling over all of us like we were her own sons. 

"Naomi-" 

"You can stay upstairs with Jim, right?" she asked innocently, but she was looking directly at me. Ray snickered. 

"He's got that enormous bed, honey, surely there's enough room for the two of you. Right Jim?" 

"Yeah, right," I muttered. Although I wasn't big on the idea of sharing, I was accustomed to being near Blair, and he didn't snore or talk in his sleep. When I whistled for the pup, and she came scrambling across the tile of the kitchen, slipping and sliding in her hurry to come to me. 

"Um, Jim," Fraser said, stepping toward me stiffly. "I think that it would be best if we started immediately on Princess' training...Blair said that she'd been sleeping in your bed, and in order to insure that she understands the structure of our pack, I think that she'd be better off sleeping in the room with Ray and I- on the floor, of course." 

Damn it. But, of course, he was right, and I shrugged to let them know that it didn't matter to me one damned bit. I'd known from the beginning that I couldn't keep her. 

I slept poorly that night. It must've been because I'd grown so used to sleeping alone, but Blair's very presence next to me seemed huge, distracting, impossible to tune out. At one point, he flopped over in sleep, his hand wiggling its way under my pillow, and I felt like crawling out of my skin. 

Halfway through the night, I heard whispering downstairs and automatically dialed up, desperate for some kind of escape from my restlessness. Just Fraser and Ray, I realized, but I kept listening, not thinking until it was too late about what I might hear. 

"....can't sleep, Frase," Ray was murmuring, something muffling his words. Judging by the soft, wet sounds that followed, it was Benton's mouth. Blair's new bed creaked and I recognized the muted sounds of blankets rustling, dragging, then finally a second of silence. 

"Do you think that this would help?" Benton's voice now, husky with sleep and something else, whispering even more quietly than Ray. 

I tried not to imagine what he was doing but it was hard not to, with the stifled moan that came from Ray. God, they were two men, in Blair's bed- doing that. My body ached from staying so still and quiet, as though they might overhear me listening to them. But I couldn't stop now. 

"Yeah, just like that. 'S good, Frase, so good," he panted, and it didn't take much effort at all to zoom in just enough to identify the sounds. Wet sounds, hands roaming around over skin, and hindered breathing, soft sucking- oh. My eyes flew open with the knowledge of what I was hearing. And Blair was just lying there, sleeping the sleep of the oblivious. They were his friends, for crying out loud. 

"Sandburg." I didn't know what I was doing, just that I had to make this feeling stop. This itchy, restless burn that had been keeping me awake. "Sandburg." I nudged him with my knee, then jostled his shoulder when that didn't work. 

"hummnh?" he made a confused sound before he even moved, sluggishly turning over to blink sleepily at me. "What?" 

"Your friends are downstairs," I hissed. 

"Wh- Ben and Ray?" he asked curiously. "What are they doing up?" 

"They're not up." I propped myself up on my elbow. "They're....doing stuff." 

"Huh?" He frowned at me, clearly wondering if I were insane. 

I wondered the same thing. "Doing stuff, Sandburg. In your bed." I honestly don't know what I was expecting. Some kind of reassurance, some kind of explanation, mutual shock, a reprimand, just something to take away whatever it was that was boiling in my blood, driving me crazy, stealing my peace. 

"Jesus, James!" he exclaimed in a whisper, shocked. "You're lying here listening into our guests in a private moment, and you woke me up to tell me about it?" 

Perspective is a funny thing. When phrased like that, it seemed ridiculous and more than a little disrespectful to Ray, Fraser, and Sandburg. Maybe, if I was lucky, tomorrow Sandburg would think that it had all been a dream. 

"Never mind. Night." I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head. I stayed awake a long time, thinking about why some people were allowed pleasures like that, why I wasn't, and the gut-wrenching unfairness of it all. 

* * *

Jim stayed in bed late, later than he ever slept in, but everyone insisted I leave him alone. How he could sleep with the racket of Naomi in the kitchen, and Ray, Fraser and I trying to help her, getting in her way until she finally shooed us into the living room with exasperated swats from a spatula. 

It was of my opinion that he was avoiding facing me after the weirdness that had occurred last night, but that couldn't ruin my good mood. My mom was here, and that meant a lot. Jim, Naomi, Benton, Ray...it was going to be an awesome day. 

I grinned and opened up for Naomi as she popped one of her famous cinnamon mini-muffins in my mouth. "Mmm, 's th'bst," I said, chewing enthusiastically. She set about plying Ben and Ray with breakfast foods, and I sneaked upstairs to drag my partner's lazy ass out of bed. 

Macho paranoia had confined him to strictly his side of the bed all night, but since I'd left, he'd taken over the entire space, spread out like a king on the satiny sheets. No, I hadn't teased him about the sheets, even though I'd wanted to. 

"What." 

"Nothing, man. Just...everyone's up. Ready to get out there, check out this Madeline Riggs person?" 

"No." He stretched, muscles straining gorgeously. 

"What?" 

"No. We're not checking on anyone. There's no reason. It's a wild goose chase, Sandburg. Forget it." 

Well so much for the Protector instinct that I'd attributed this case to. "What? Why?" 

"Because I don't think there's any point to this. And it's not our case. We're stepping on toes." 

"That's a copout and you know it! Since when do you care about stepping on toes?" I could hear things go quiet downstairs, but I didn't really care. We'd canceled our much anticipated vacation for this case, and I knew that he was as compelled to complete it as I was. Stubborn bastard. 

"You're just freaking about what that old woman said, about _my_ gray eminence, and you just can't stand to think that you're not always in control of every little thing. That you could let anyone close enough to influence you. That you don't know _everything_ , Jim." 

"That's enough, Sandburg," he said calmly, infuriating me with his calm. "That's not why." But he wouldn't look at me. He just sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

"Yes it is! And I think that there's something here, some good we can do. _That's_ why you're backing out. To prove that you make your own decisions, right tough guy?" 

"This conversation is over, Chief," he murmured quietly, smoothly, and breezed past me to dig some clothes out of his drawers. "I'm going to take a shower and hit the gym. Why don't you take care of your guests?" 

My guests, right, I thought glumly. With a bit of belated embarrassment, I made my way down the steps and into the kitchen. 

"Honey," Naomi sighed with a mixture of sympathy and reproof. "Go easy on Jim." 

"Why the hell should I do that?" 

Her eyes touched me so softly, I didn't realize how much I'd missed her, missed the way she looked at me until that moment, and I felt about five years old again. "Look, sweetie," she said, petting my hair the way that Jim handled Princess. "Look around you. _Your_ mother, _your_ friends-" She held up her glass. "And something tells me that it wasn't Jim's soy-smoothie mix that I found in the refrigerator." 

"So?" But a great deal of my self-righteous anger had evaporated. 

"So, it's understandable that a man like Jim feels the need to reassert his independence once in a while." 

"...maybe," I found myself saying. And I should've known this. It's my job to know these things about him, to come to these conclusions on my own. How could I have missed something so obvious? 

* * *

When I was done showering and dressing, I grabbed my gym bag and tried to maintain an expression that said "I am not an asshole," even though I felt like one, and then some. I made it downstairs and no further before Naomi called out, "Jim, are you coming with us today? 

"Yeah, um." Sandburg didn't look at me as he spoke, and I silently agreed. Good. Acknowledge the awkwardness. Nothing I didn't deserve. "We wanted to go to the Cascade Museum of Natural History." 

If I hadn't been a Sentinel, I probably wouldn't have heard Ray's "Yeah, _we_ wanted to go to a museum," and turned in time to see the sarcastic rolling of his blue eyes, blue like Blair's. 

My answer was caught in my throat, couldn't answer, couldn't move, because one thought held me immobile: <Is that me?> A little more time with Blair, and maybe- yes. Blair knew. Blair had to know. But Blair wasn't a Sentinel, how could he know what I felt for him? 

Yes, he had what the old woman had referred to as l'minence grise, but did he know what motivated that weakness? What drove me to that position that had seemed perfectly acceptable until someone had mentioned it? 

"I told you, I'm going to the gym," I said stiffly, then, in a softer tone directed at Naomi, "Maybe next time. Have fun." 

At the gym, I was driven by the words of the old woman, by the knowledge of what I wanted from Blair, and what he would never give me. As I pushed against the steel of the weights, I thought about my life. 

Fraser. 

Ray. 

I didn't want to be like them. To not have a choice, to be sucked in, stereotyped, labeled, and trapped for the rest of my life. To be in a relationship where complete strangers can pinpoint the dynamic of your relationship in five minutes. 

But under all that, I _did_ want to be like them. To be able to touch and be touched, to not be so bone-tired at the end of the day just from pretending, and then having to work extra hard not to break down and admit everything just so that the pretending could stop. 

It had been bad enough when I was just hiding my attraction to men, but with Blair it was different, so much more difficult because this was so much deeper and I didn't just want it, but _longed_ for it, and sometimes the ache in my chest got so bad that I would turn to Blair for help, only to realize that he was the cause of it. 

I pushed hard, harder than I had in a long time, as though I could push away my confusion, resentment, and shame for what was going on inside my head. One, two, three.......I lost count in the monotony. 

"Hey." 

I opened my eyes, vaguely aware that I may have zoned. "yeah?" 

"You've...been on there for a while. I noticed that you're starting to wear down...need a spotter?" 

I'd seen him before at the gym. About my height, my build, dark hair, brown eyes. Good looking. 

"Thanks. I could use one." No point bringing any attention to myself by refusing. Besides, my muscles felt like they were about to collapse. "Jim Ellison," I grunted, pushing up on the bar for one last set...if I could manage it. My hands were slick with sweat, and I wanted to look at the clock, see how long I'd been on there. 

Somehow, I made it through the last set, and sat up, trembling. I wiped my face and neck on my towel and groaned. The guy hung around watching me, then held out his hand. "Josh." He seemed amused. "So, did you get it out of your system?" 

"What?" 

He gestured at me, at the equipment. "Whatever has got you so wound up...let me guess- a woman?" 

An unexpected chuckle rose from my chest, and I realized that, yeah, I did feel a lot lighter. "Not a woman. But yeah, I think it worked...for now." I smiled at him, and he smiled back. 

"So, uh," his eyes flickered over my torso, then up again. Huh, I thought. I'm being cruised. At my gym. By a guy who wasn't afraid to show his interest in another guy. And he was about to ask me out. "Want to go get something to eat? I usually go to this pizza place down the street." 

"I know the place," I said. I'd been there with Blair. Their beer was always cold, and the bathrooms weren't nasty. "Sounds good. But...I have some things to do this afternoon. How about tonight?" 

He nodded, looking pleased. While we were exchanging numbers and solidifying our plans, I noticed his mouth. Wondered if we would kiss, wondered what men did on dates. 

I had a sudden flash of Sandburg and me arguing over which type of pizza to get, then laughing at the waiter's annoyed comments when he went back to the kitchen. He insisted that we were messing up our karma by using my Sentinel abilities for our entertainment, but was always more than willing in participate. 

But those hadn't been dates; this was different. Sandburg would try to influence me in this area, too, no doubt...convince me that this wasn't what I really wanted. 

And that was really the deciding factor. No secret influence behind that decision, just James Ellison. 

I went back to the loft feeling freed, generous, ready to apologize to everyone for my shitty behavior. 

* * *

By the time we got back from the museum, lunch and a walk along the bay, Jim was back. I'd expected him to basically stay in petulant hiding for the rest of my friends' visits, but here he was at the table, poring over the files from the Riggs case. 

Naomi beamed at his reconciliatory efforts and brought the four of us drinks while we looked through the coroner's report on Ms. Riggs. She refrained from making disapproving comments about murder, cops and crime, and I think Jim appreciated that more than the beer. 

Jim told Fraser our idea about Princess' questionable authenticity as a purebred and he nodded eagerly. "I was thinking something similar. It's a shame that Dief isn't here, because he would be a more apt judge." 

Jim eyed him, nonplussed, and I distracted him with an elbow in the side. "Take a look at this." 

The phone rang, and Jim waved Naomi away, saying the machine would get it. The message played through, and I we fell back into our task. 

"I wonder why people always sound like such dorks on tape...ever notice that?" I mused. "All high pitched, and too fast?" 

"Yeah...I did notice how you sound like a dork on tape, now that you mention it," he said, and I whacked him with the folder in my hand. Then- Beep, and- 

"Hi Jim, it's Josh." 

Jim froze. 

"I'm going to be a little late, so instead of picking me up, why don't we just meet up at the restaurant. I'd hate for you to get there and think I stood you up. I, um...hope you get this in time. I'll see you there. I'm. Looking forward to it." 

The whirring of the machine was completely drowned out by the silence that felt as though it would suffocate me if I didn't ask. 

I looked around the table, but no one seemed to have noticed the suspicious undertones of that phone call. Except Jim. 

Who cleared his throat and said, in a pure Jim Ellison fashion, "Can you hand me that breeder's directory, Chief?" 

Not. I dangled the booklet right out of his reach. "Sure, if you tell me what's going on." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You tell me; you're the one acting all cagey. And the guy on the phone? I don't know him." 

"So?" He shrugged, casually, maddeningly. "I can't know someone that you don't know?" 

God, he was so obvious when he was hiding something. "Yeah, Jim, that's right. Don't try to bullshit me, because I'm willing to bet that after over three years of living together, there isn't anyone you know that I don't, and vice versa." 

"Fine," he consented, and I was scared for a second, scared because I recognized his expression, and it was covered with Alex's fingerprints. Or should I say lip-prints. Whatever. 

"That was Josh, we're going out to dinner. I met him at the gym." 

"You mean...a date?" 

Again- silence. Finally he ground out an answer. 

"Yes." 

"You're going out on a date. With him." No way. Not Jim Ellison. 

Thank God for mothers, even mothers that are rarely around when you need them. Naomi swept in, putting her arms on Jim's shoulders, giving him a tight hug from behind. 

"Oh, sweetie, I think that's wonderful! That a man with your upbringing can break through all of those false notions and be secure enough to go with your feelings. And I'm so glad that you're partnered up with my Blair, who would never judge your choice." 

I heard her words, but they didn't really register. Instead, I had to make sure one more time. 

"You're going on a date with a guy, Jim? Jesus." 

"Yeah, Sandburg, he's going on a date with a guy," and when I turned to reply to Ray, I saw the dangerous warning in his eyes. Back off, it said, and Do you wanna make something of it? 

"Ray," Fraser cautioned, putting his hand on his partner's arm. "This is between Jim and Blair." 

"No it's not." Jim said quietly. I felt a stab of regret- he was embarrassed. Jim didn't get embarrassed. "It's between me and whoever I choose to date. Not me and Blair." 

Not Blair. As in, not me. 

"What time is your date, Jim?" Naomi asked fondly, patting his shoulder. I could've used one of those pats at the moment, but Jim was the one with the date, with the comfort from my mother, with my friends on his side fully supporting his new lifestyle choice. 

"In an hour," he mumbled, still embarrassed by the attention. 

"Have you ever dated a man before?" I blurted. 

"Not dated." He stopped pretending to look through the directory, and looked glumly down at the cover. 

"Oh," I said, because I couldn't think of anything else good, and I really didn't know what his evasive answer meant. "Have...a good time, then." 

* * *

"Don't you like your salad?" Josh poked playfully at my plate with his fork. I responded by pinning down his fork with my own. 

"Didn't your mother teach you to ask before eating from someone else's plate?" I felt bold, wicked, like a man with nothing to lose. I was out, both literally and figuratively, and the best part was that it had been _my_ decision, and had nothing to do with my supposedly influential partner. 

My innuendo was not wasted on the handsome man across from me, and his face softened immediately with affection and lust. "And what if I ask first? Then can I have a taste?" 

It was weird to have someone other than Blair as the cause of that flutter of excitement, and even with Blair, my fantasies never really got further than kissing his mouth, touching his hair, his chest, his familiar face. 

"I-" 

I faltered uncertainly. I'm good at this stuff with women, I wanted to tell him- I'm not a loser, but that didn't matter. 

"Hey, it's okay." He said, looking concerned. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable." 

"No, it's just-" 

"You don't have to explain, Jim." He motioned for the waitress to bring us out check. "There's no rush. We don't even know each other that well yet. Something that I intend to remedy as soon as possible." 

When the waitress brought the check, I grabbed it, brushing off his attempts to pay. He gave me a small fight, then graciously relented with another grin, showing off straight, white teeth. 

We went out to his car. It was a sports car, and on top of that: red. But I forgave him because I'd enjoyed myself at dinner and he'd gotten my joke about the parachute, the one that nobody ever got except Sandburg, and that was only because I'd explained it to him. 

While I was wondering what would happen next, he pushed me against the side of the car and kissed me, hard. 

I wanted to think about this kiss, about whether or not I liked it, but a distraction was there; a thread of caution that floated through my consciousness. I opened up my senses until I was struck violently by recognition. 

Stale clothes, dirty diapers, and that specific scent that every person has. It was overwhelming, that sour smell that I thought I'd imagined in that nursery, the scent of Josh's sexual interest in me, the cheese and garlic from the restaurant, all twining together, creating sensory ropes that bound my lungs cruelly. I couldn't stop chasing that scent, either, which meant an impending zone. 

Shit. I was going to zone. But a few seconds later, I found myself being miraculously pulled back from the abyss. My mouth hadn't even left Josh's. He tried to talk, but I silenced him, taking charge of the kiss. 

No wonder I'd agreed to go out with him. We had chemistry, I could feel it in the way his mouth opened under mine and the taste of his tongue once I made my way inside. I chuckled into his mouth. He seemed shyer now, maybe my zoneout had freaked a him a bit. 

I knew that this public makeout session had to be coming to an end soon, not just because we were in public, but because I just wasn't ready to jump right in the sack with a guy. But he felt so _good_ , and it was like I was some kind of recluse, so starved for contact that I had to cram a lifetime's worth of physical touch into one kiss. 

His hips pushed against mine, and I pushed right back. Before I'd zoned, it had seemed more like a contest, a battle for dominance, a one-upmanship, but now it dripped with eroticism. Then he was trying to talk again. 

"Jim, Jim, Jim, please." His voice, muffled by my mouth, sounded funny. Different, not aroused at all, like he'd been a few minutes ago. I relented, pulling back, but kept my hands wrapped up in the long, silky curls that felt like pure sex against my skin. 

Long...curls? Suddenly, scent spiked again. I opened my eyes, confused, and looked straight into the wide, nervous eyes of my partner. 

He was breathing in short little intense puffs of breath, probably scared out of his wits by the way I had him all tangled up with me, wedged against the side of the car. But I couldn't move. I'd just had my tongue in his mouth, he'd felt-could still feel- my erection pressed into his stomach. I breathed in his breath and realized what had pulled me out of my zone. 

"Jim," he whispered. His hands were gripping my shoulders, trembling, waiting for me. " _Please_..." 

The embarrassment of my situation hit me like a punch in the gut. "God, Chief, I'm so-" I jerked away, unable to look at him, so I pretended that I was frozen, impenetrable, capable of nothing, responsible for nothing, seeing and hearing nothing, until- 

"Jim!" Blair's hand drew back and I watched, mesmerized, as it came and went in a flash, a sharp wakeup call on my cheek. 

"I'm here," I choked. 

"Good, because...shit!" Blair pushed me away with unrecognizable hands. Rough hands that had never been used on me, not even when Incacha had died. He started pacing in that way he does when he's overwhelmed. 

"Jim? What happened?" He was shaking and I couldn't help but wonder why, because even though he was out in the freezing night with no jacket, when I'd been touching him, his heat had nearly burned me. 

"Scent." I could still feel his lips on mine. 

"Yeah, but what?" 

I didn't want to admit that I was wrong, but I couldn't feel up my partner and then lie to him in the same day. "The kid in the apartment. The baby." 

He sucked in a deep breath and contained the barrage of questions and instructions that I knew were there. 

"You've been here for a while." 

"Yeah, I know. I don't smell it anymore." 

He nodded, and I couldn't help but ask, 

"Josh?" 

"I made up some bullshit story and got him out of here, but...uh. I wouldn't be expecting him to call anytime soon." His lips twitched in an almost-smile. "Sorry. 

I shrugged. After tasting Blair's mouth, it was unlikely that I would enjoy Josh's bland flavor. 

"You haven't zoned in a long time." He held onto my arm. 

I had to turn away from the concern on his face, and instead pretended to look at something across the street. "My senses were pretty much wide open and I got caught off guard." 

"Why did you have your- oh." 

I knew that he was remembering a conversation about a year ago when I'd told him that when I was with a woman, I liked to open up because it was more pleasurable that way. I'd been embarrassed as hell, but he'd been thrilled that I was letting him into my private life like that. 

He released my arm reluctantly. 

* * *

We went together into the pizza place. Jim said that he could still detect traces of the baby, but not strong enough to indicate that he or she was still nearby. 

"Excuse me." He flashed his badge at the hostess. "I'd like to ask you a few questions." 

She looked startled, like people usually did, but eventually got her bearings back enough to be a big help. Yes, there was a man who came in occasionally with a baby, but he always took carryout or delivery. 

"Delivery." He stopped her abruptly, but not rudely. "You have the addresses on file?" 

"Yes, but I don't know his name, Detective. Hold on a sec." She scanned the crowded foyer, then called out, "Ruby! Come over here a sec." 

A middle aged bleached-blonde woman with an accent and a tray under her arm approached us warily. Some people could identify cops, even in plain clothes, and in my opinion, those were the people to be careful of. "What's up, Trace?" 

"Remember that guy who comes in with the baby, the one who always flirts with you?" 

A sly smile slid across her face...apparently she did remember him. "Oh yeah, Charles. Charles...House? Yeah, that's it. Odd name, don't you think?" 

Hand on her hip, she regarded us through narrowed eyes. "Why, he in some kind of trouble?" 

"We just need to ask him some questions," I assured her. 

The hostess had already pulled up the info and scribbled it onto a piece of paper for us. Jim thanked her and we were off. We called Simon so that someone could go pick up the suspect and went home to wait. 

Naomi was all over Jim as soon as he came in the door. I really think that she enjoys playing mother to the both of us, which makes my feelings for him kind of inappropriate, in a perverse kind of way. "Are you all right? Blair said that you'd gotten sick, is that true? Oh, and on your first date with Josh, too." She hugged him and in a stage whisper, said "I want to hear everything about your date." 

_Yeah?_ I couldn't help thinking angrily, sarcastically. 

_Everything? Well, he went out with Josh but ended up making out with me in a parking lot. He loved it, too, until he found out that it was Blair Sandburg in his arms..._

"Later." He spoke to Naomi gently, but sounded pissed when he told me to run the guy's name through the computer. 

It turned out that this House guy was a former dog breeder, banned from breeding professionally by the AKC because of some improprieties he'd been involved with in '93. This guy had his hands in just about every illegal medium- drugs, weapons, the black market, and he'd trade the pups that he bred for any of them. 

We all sat around throwing around ideas for a while, waiting for Simon to call us saying that they'd brought him in. Jim had requested to do the interrogation himself, which was fine with the homicide detectives on the case- as far as they were concerned, Jim was wasting his time, and they didn't want theirs wasted as well. 

Simon called to let us know that when they'd gone to pick him up, he hadn't been there. They'd try again tomorrow, but that wasn't good enough for Jim, and he grabbed his coat and left in a huff, reminding me to take Princess outside before bed. 

Like I could forget, what with the way she whimpered and scratched at the door after he'd left. I felt a kind of kinship with the pup after that, because I'd stared at the back of that door plenty of times after watching it slam behind him. 

Ray had discovered Jim's age-old Nintendo that was stuffed under the entertainment center, and was impatiently trying to teach Fraser to play. I listened to them while I sat in the kitchen with Naomi. 

"Ray, I don't understand why you're acting like this. It's -quite unflattering. You can't tell me that insulting me is part of the game." 

I smiled, imagining that Benton probably didn't understand a lot of things that Ray did. They were so...different. 

"It's called talking shit, and it's part of any red-blooded American's game plan. Gotta throw off the competition, y'know?" 

"I see. And I'm expected to reciprocate this behavior?" 

Ray laughed, a surprised, delighted sound with a hint of a snort. "Oh, this I've gotta see. Yeah, Frase, you're supposed to reciprocate," he said, before adding, "choose your weapon and prepare to eat my dust, cuz you're going _down_." 

There was only a brief pause before Fraser replied in a sly tone that I'd never heard before, "Perhaps we can make a wager on this game, then, and then later it can be you going _down_." 

My head turned toward the living room, to see Ray half glowering, half grinning at his lover, who was bent over the Nintendo controls, studying them intently. I could see the blush on his neck even from the kitchen. 

"Fraser. What are you talking about. That is not how you-" and even though he sounded annoyed, he moved, kissing Fraser with ardor. I looked away when it became clear that they weren't going to stop anytime soon. 

I blinked; blinked back the prickles that I felt behind my eyelids. 

* * *

I didn't go to the station. Simon said he'd call when they brought in House, and I had no reason to doubt him or the uniforms that he entrusted with the task. 

I just drove. 

No matter how casually we'd acted afterwards, something had happened tonight. I'd touched Blair, something I'd wanted but vowed to never do, and even worse, tasted him. I could _still_ taste him, and I knew that it would take more than brushing my teeth to get his taste out of my mouth. 

I knew Blair inside and out, and he wouldn't care that he'd been kissed by a man. But what he would care about was that it had been _me_ kissing him, especially knowing what he knew about me now. 

I kept seeing those desperate, dark eyes. " _Please_ ," he'd said. Asked. Said. 

But at the time and even now, it didn't seem like he'd been saying "Please stop." It had felt like " _Please touch me_ ," and " _Please tell me what's happening_." 

I tried to sneak back in at about one o'clock, but at the top of the stairs- busted. Shit. I'd forgotten that Blair and I were sharing a room. Before I could decide what to do, he threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. 

"Jesus, Jim, where have you been!? I called Simon and he said that you never went to the station. We were all worried, especially after what happened..." 

I started undressing for bed. Pretending that everything was fine had worked for me in the past. My clothes fell onto the floor and I rebelliously kicked them into the corner. He stood stubbornly steadfast, trying to block my way into bed. 

"Knock it off, Sandburg," I growled, pushing past him and stumbling a bit in my haste to slide between the cool, clean sheets. 

He shook his head and smoothed back his bed-ruined hair. "But Jim, don't you think that we have some things to talk about?" 

_Yeah, I'd like to talk about the way your tongue pushed against mine, and how I pretended that it was because you were out of control, even though I knew you were just trying to get away._

"What do you think we should talk about?" He looked away; probably bothered him that I was just lying there in my underwear. Good. Maybe he'd get uncomfortable enough to leave me alone. 

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, stubborn little bastard. "I think that we should talk about what happened tonight." 

"And what happened, Chief??" 

"You kissed me." 

"I was zoning. I thought you were-" 

"-Josh, I know. But I'm not. And it was..." He shifted back and forth uncomfortably, and I continued to float. It all seemed so funny now, I couldn't believe that I'd ever been so riled up about it. 

"Did you like it?" I asked suddenly. I really wanted to know. 

He came around and settled on his side of the bed, looking at me uncertainly. Like I was a mentally unstable suspect. I had a good view of the way his hair almost touched the bed when he sat, and I reached out, brushing it with the backs of my knuckles like I always wanted to. My hand dropped back down to the blanket with a thump. "Your hair's long." 

"Yeah, I know," he said, exasperated. 

"So...did you?" 

He studied my face, then looked down, his hair falling in a curtain around his face. It was easier that way, without the danger of eye contact. "I was just scared at first, just trying to bring you out of it. Then you kind of woke up and you were kissing me. But did I like it?" He paused for so long that I thought maybe he wasn't going to answer, but then his voice dropped down gut-wrenchingly low, and he said, 

"I don't know, Jim." 

'Don't know.' Even I, with my terrible track record at dating knew that 'Don't Know' is code for "The answer is no but I don't want to hurt your feelings so I'll say I don't know and then we can both pretend that we never had this conversation." 

He peeked at me from lowered lashes, gauging my reaction. I was suddenly ultra aware of our situation, the two of us alone in my bed. Not a heightened sense- just common sense. 

And he was right there; so near that I could touch him if I wanted to. Just reach out and forget that my date with Josh had been ruined and still end this evening with a man in my bed. After all, this was what I wanted, what I'd wanted forever, but even though I couldn't remember _what_ , I knew there was a reason that Blair was Off Limits _besides_ the fact that he was straight. 

Another thing that I'd become ultra-aware of was the way that Blair was simply sitting there, not talking at all, but just kind of trembling and returning my gaze. Nervous- God, he probably thought I was going to jump him or something during the night. 

"I'm not going to jump you or anything," I assured him. 

"I know that, Jim," he said, but he was frowning. "I wasn't thinking that." 

My eyelids were becoming too heavy to keep up, so I let them slide closed, letting Blair decide whether to continue the conversation or go to sleep. 

"Jim." 

I could feel his weight sinking into the mattress next to me. I opened my eyes just in time to see a section of sweet smelling hair tumble down onto the bed. 

"I just want you to be okay," he told me. Those brilliant eyes darted around my face, searching for something. I fixed my own tired, bloodshot eyes on the parted lips that were cruelly displayed before me, moist and slightly red as though he'd been chewing on the lush bottom lip due to nervousness or deep thought. 

I shouldn't be here, we shouldn't be here like this, I thought, and then I said it. 

"We shouldn't be here like this." 

His forehead wrinkled. "Why not?" 

"Because..." 

"Blair," I said carefully, then decided to tell him the truth. "If I'm going to be gay, it's _not_ going to be because of you." 

Blair was quiet for a long time, and I could hear the slide of him rubbing his hands together, thinking. "Oh my _God_ , Jim." He sounded like he felt sorry for me. 

I didn't say anything. 

He is voice shook with anger. "You are unbelievable. Will you just _forget_ what that old woman said? You never listen to _anyone_ , why would you listen to her? She doesn't even know us! Are you going to go the rest of our lives not agreeing with one solitary thing that I say just to prove that you're some kind of macho lone wolf-type, and the only person on earth whose intuition is impeccable enough 

I rolled over. "She _did_ know us. She knew that I was a Sentinel, Chief! And she knew that I-" Shit. I decided to shut up. 

"She knew that you what, Jim?" he asked, flopping down next to me. That simple gesture just killed me, because right here right now, _this_ was one of the reasons that I wanted him so much. That we could lie around like this, fighting, laughing, whatever, and know that tomorrow we would still be partners and friends. 

And yet...it felt almost good- no, it felt _thoroughly_ good to deny him something. 

* * *

I slept on the loveseat that night, curled into myself and feeling stupid. Insulted. No, just stupid. 

I stayed awake for a long time thinking about us.. When I woke up, Naomi was sitting there just looking at me. Staring. From my position she was upside down, but my neck was somehow paralyzed from the cramped sleeping arrangements. 

"Honey," said the strange, Picasso-esque Naomi. It took me a few dazed seconds to realize that her expression was one of unhappiness. "The reason you're down here isn't because of what you found out about Jim, is it?" 

I groaned, feeling the painful tingles of an awakening limb. "Mom, no. We just had a disagreement about the case. Don't worry." 

"Because that would be something that I'd expect from-" she dropped her voice to a whisper, "-from a _pig_ , honey, not from you. You weren't raised like that." With that statement and a pat to my shoulder, she was gone. 

My upside down view of the loft was appropriate at that moment, because everything else in my life seemed that way, too. Everyone in the loft giving me dark sideways looks, and _Jim_ being the big gay pride hero of the day. I guess that he's a hero in everything he does, why should this be any different? 

I could hear everyone gathering in the kitchen. Ray was grumpy and Fraser was his usual up and at 'em self. With only a few words, Naomi was able to flirt Ray into civility and convince everyone to let her make breakfast. Not that there was much of a resistance. 

I was the last one in the shower so I stood shivering under the cold water, and when I joined everyone for breakfast, that was cold, too. What, did the gods think that I was some kind of homophobe, too? Everyone had it so backwards, thinking that I hated the thought of Jim being gay. 

"What's on the agenda for today?" Ray asked, pushing back from the table and patting his stomach. He winked at Naomi in appreciation for the meal. "Gonna check out this House guy or is it more Melrose Place reruns?" 

"Ray." Fraser probably didn't even get the reference, but he must've heard something in Ray's tone. 

"It's okay Ben, he's right, I know that Jim and I have been..." I looked at Jim as I spoke. "We've been a little wrapped up in what's going on with us and probably not the best hosts, and for that I apologize. I also want to apologize for the arguing and for anything I've said that offended you." 

I hoped that Jim would know that the apology was just as much for him as for our guests. "As you all know, Jim kind of, uh, surprised me yesterday. And I don't want you to mistake my surprise for anger or homophobia. I know it's not any of my business, but Jim's my partner and this is a big...adjustment for both of us." 

At this, Jim gave me a tiny smile, and I knew he understood, or at the very least accepted my explanation. 

"But you _were_ mad," Ray pointed out-correctly. 

"Yes. I was a little upset," I replied, realizing that it would be impossible to put everything I had been feeling and thinking into words. "It wasn't because of Jim going out with a man, though. Really." 

Lame, very lame, I told myself, but everyone kind of nodded and went about their business. Everyone except for Jim, who stood leaning against the counter in his most intimidating pose. It didn't really work on me anymore, but the fact that he was _trying_ it was sort of amusing. 

When we were alone in the room, he motioned me nearer and my feet obliged willingly. He seemed more normal this morning; more like the Jim that I knew...less like the new, insulting not to mention erratic homosexual Jim from last night. 

"Why, then?" he asked. 

I sighed. Why indeed. Why had I been angry, and did I even know, myself? 

"Part of it was that you didn't tell me first," I said slowly, and he nodded in understanding. "I just want you to be sure that this is what you want. I have to admit, it was _really_ weird seeing you with Josh. But my feelings aside, I'm a little worried about you and what this will mean for you. Especially in your career." 

"Blair, things aren't that bad at the department. We have EO diversity seminars on a regular basis, and-" 

"-and Jim, look at the way most of the cops _act_ during those classes." I struggled to keep my voice calm and quiet, but denial did not suit James Ellison. "You know better than anyone how people _really_ feel about these things." 

And he did know, I could see it in the way he averted his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Anything else?" His entire body radiated embarrassment and discomfort, and I hated doing that to him. 

"No," I replied reluctantly, feeling as though nothing had been solved. "But Jim..." 

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. 

"Regardless of what other people think, I'm here for you. Nothing that you do or " 

Once in a while, I manage to say just the right thing to Jim and he gets this startled, pleased look like nothing I've ever seen. Like he'd won a contest that he didn't even know he'd entered. This was one of those times, and I got not only the look, but a hand on my shoulder. 

"I know, Sandburg. And thanks." He punctuated the last sentiment with a squeeze to my shoulder and things were finally normal for the first time in days. 

* * *

Blair and I took Princess for a walk since Ray and Ben, who had taken over her care, were both in the bathroom. I wanted, for some compelling reason, to listen in to whatever they were saying, but Blair kept giving me these sidelong glances that made me feel guilty, as though he knew exactly what I was up to. 

He probably did. 

When we came back in, Naomi couldn't wait to tell us what she considered good news. 

"Your friend Simon called," she bubbled at us as soon as we walked through the door. 

"He's our boss," I corrected her, but she went right on. Blair watched her raptly as she spoke, and I felt the pang again; the one that struck me whenever I compared Naomi to my own absentee mother. 

"Yes, anyhow, he said that they've got your guy, and to get your butts down to the station for questioning." She let it be known with her face and tone exactly _how_ distasteful she found it having to relay messages between "pigs". 

I let Princess go off of her leash and tried not to grimace when she went running straight for Fraser. "Let's go, Chief." 

I couldn't relax until I was finally in the interrogation room, face to face with Charles House. Blair was in the corner, observing quietly, but the questions were for me to ask. I didn't think that anyone, including myself, could understand the degree of connection that I felt to this case. 

He was pretty much what I'd expected- medium height, medium build, average looks...nothing special. I waited a few minutes before speaking, and it had the desired effect. He fidgeted nervously and radiated fear in scent and body language. 

"You know why you're here, now do me a favor and don't waste our time. Spill." 

He just sat there looking utterly miserable and giving me none of the attitude that I'd expected. 

"Let's start with the baby." He definitely knew about the baby. He'd had the baby with him when they'd brought him in- in the care of protective services now, poor thing. 

"Sam." 

A small sound of disgust escaped Blair and I could relate. Something about the kid having a name brought the situation from a distant, hypothetical situation to a not only real, but utterly sickening one. 

"I think I know what's going on here, House, but I want to hear it from you. So let's hear you explain _why_ you would murder four people, including the mother of the baby you kidnapped." 

Days of caring for a baby had left him with dark circles under his eyes, and his hands shook with fatigue and apprehension. "No, no, it was never supposed to be like that," he moaned, rubbing at his face with his hand. "I didn't...look, we were just supposed to pick up the kid. Drop off the dog. But the junkie mom didn't want to let go, and it just went _wrong_." 

"The three bodies found at the scene, those were your associates?" I was riding that high, the one that I always got when we'd been working a case and were just inches away from having it all wrapped up. Sandburg gets the same way, too. I can tell because he always reaches a point where he just can't stay still any longer, and he just jumps into the interrogation. His heart rate matches mine at times like this, and he's probably half-hard, too. 

"Yes." This guy is about to lose it bigtime, and I don't know who's going to blow first, him or Sandburg. "They were...Jay said that they were our 'muscle,' our backup. That we'd be safer with them, but God...then he ended up...I can't believe it..." I glanced over at Sandburg as he started to babble endlessly, choking on emotion and his tears. 

"Enough!" I said. Blair handed the guy a tissue. "What are you saying?" 

"He killed them, I told him not to! He--he was my _partner_ , I just can't believe that he could...I _trusted_ him." And it seemed so strange that here he is facing a lengthy prison sentence, and he's more distraught about his partner's lack of loyalty. 

"And you're surprised that your partner screwed you over?!" He flinched away from my voice, but shit. "This isn't exactly video pirating here, this is hard core black market trade. Human beings, animals, probably a shitload of coke, heroin and I don't even know what else! So I want to know how you can be surprised here, House. Tell me that." 

"We were _partners_ , he insisted, as though that should explain everything, as if that phrase carried the weight of all the pain in the world. Which, I realized...it probably did to this poor, broken man. 

His partner had betrayed him, and he hadn't even seen it coming. 

All of a sudden it hit me; how foolish I'd been, and stubborn. I was so worried about Blair influencing me too much, but at least I had never worried about whether he was influencing me in the wrong direction. Or that he would ever stop. And the thought of Blair _not_ having that influence was terrifying. Because we were better together than apart. Neither of us better than the other, neither of us worse. 

"Hey, I understand." Blair jumped in, frowning at me. What the hell had I done? "That's got to suck, man. You trusted your partner. But he's not going to help you now. What _is_ going to help you is if you cooperate, and that means giving up all of your contacts and everything you can remember about what happened the day at Madeline Riggs' apartment. Can you do that?" 

The weary man nodded shakily. "Hey, what's gonna happen to Sam?" 

"Well, you killed his mother, so he'll probably get put into the system." 

"She was a junkie," he defended weakly. 

"And you're not?" Anger with the whole situation engulfed me- our missed vacation, not being able to keep Princess, my date gone wrong...and I stalked over to the coward and yanked up his sleeve until it gave with an ugly ripping sound, to reveal the track marks I knew I'd find underneath. "Was it worth it?" I asked, hurling his arm away with disgust. 

I could hear him crying all the way down the hall, until I became aware that I'd dialed up just to keep listening. 

* * *

"Can we go home soon?" Knowing Naomi, she wouldn't be around for very long and I wanted to make the most of every day that she was here. 

Jim didn't look up from his scribbling. "Yeah, Chief, just give me a minute to finish this form and I'll give it to Simon. Then, my friend, it is a done deal and out of our hands." 

"How about the way that guy caved?" I mused, occupying myself with rifling through Jim's top left drawer. There had to be some candy in there somewhere. "I've never seen anyone go down like that before." 

He didn't answer, so I figured that was my hint to be quiet. But I couldn't; the interrogation had left me wired. "It's weird, you know." I found an old piece of hard candy in the second drawer and popped it in my mouth. "Criminals working in partners just like cops. We don't like to admit it, but their relationships have the same dynamics that ours do...trust, cooperation, and some degree of intimacy." 

Jim stopped everything and stared at me with narrowed eyes. He doesn't _look_ gay, I thought. 

"What?" I asked. It figured, he'd take offense to me comparing the criminal element to something as upstanding as a police officer. I crunched the candy, just to watch him wince. 

He nodded seriously and leaned toward me. Not angry. "I know what you mean. I was thinking about that too." 

"Not about getting a new partner from the other side of the law, I hope," I teased. 

"No, nothing like that. But when House realized what had happened, his face was..." 

"I know." It had been hard to see certain brand of pain that only betrayal could inflict 

"I realized that I've been kind of a dick about this whole thing." Oh, he didn't have to explain. I knew _exactly_ what he was talking about, and I rued the day that we'd ever even heard the words 'l'eminence grise.' "I guess there are worse things than having a partner who influences me." 

"Damn right." I crunched again, this time happily. 

We got back to the loft in late afternoon, my favorite time of day. One side of the sky was mottled with greys, pinks and yellows, and the other side was already dark. We were quiet on the ride there, except for the time that we stopped at a red light and Jim leaned his head back on the seat groaning, "I hate black market cases..." 

It was something he'd been saying all week long. That these cases took forever to finish because of so many players in the game. At least we'd gotten one of them, though, probably more at the rate he was giving up his associates. 

As soon as we walked through the door, I knew she was gone. My mother had such a presence that it was impossible for me to not know. I looked wordlessly to Ben for the explanation that she'd undoubtedly left with him. 

"Naomi asked me to say goodbye for her," he said, obviously embarrassed. His lack of further explanation told me that he wasn't comfortable relaying the rest. "I'm sorry, Blair," 

"Hey, Benton, don't worry, buddy." I pulled my face into a smile, somehow, making for the stairs. "That's Naomi for you. I'm gonna get changed." I took the steps quickly, relieved that I could relax into my true expression, the one that I didn't want anyone to see. 

"Why!?" Jim was angry. Naomi pushed all kinds of his buttons, I knew. The little boy in him who reveled in warmth and attention, and the Protector of Me, who he thought was hurt by her lack of stability. She infuriated the cop in him and charmed the pants off of his inner stud. 

I fell backwards onto Jim's bed, picturing Benton doing this thing that he always does when he's stalling or uncomfortable. His finger rubbed across his eyebrow. 

"Well..." He grasped for diplomatic terms. 

"Just lay it out, Fraser. What did she _say?_ You don't have to like it." He was pissed, and yeah it was a possibility that some of it was overflow from the House case, but most of it was Naomi. 

Ray took the burden from Ben. "She said that she just couldn't take all the interrogations and suspects and killings...that the loft was filled with negative energy." He snorted, then continued. "She couldn't get out of here fast enough after Blair left. Oh and that she'd talk to him later, after she processes everything that's happened. Whatever the hell that means." 

I heard Jim taking the stairs toward me, and rolled over, feigning sleep or at least a light doze. I couldn't stand to hear anything that he had to say about Naomi. Yes, she was a flake and yes I was hurt because I'd wanted to spend time with her. But she was my _mother_. 

Weirdly enough, he lay down with me and didn't say anything. At one point I thought I felt his fingers messing with my hair but was too tired to mention it. 

When I woke up it was dark. 

Groaning at my laziness and rudeness to my guests, I made my way downstairs. Bathroom first. Ray was in there with the door open. He must've seen me turn to go, because he called me in, saying he was almost done. I watched him rub some kind of sculpting lotion onto his palms and spike his hair, then rub his head haphazardly for a pretty killer look. Come to think of it, the rest of him was pretty killer, too. His jeans were tighter in the ass than anything I'd ever seen him in, and the tshirt he was wearing fit snugly across his torso. Unlike most of his wardrobe, it was new, not threadbare. 

"I didn't know you had your ear pierced," I said, gazing at his reflection approvingly. "Looks good on you." 

"Wait till you see Frase," he said with a glint in his eye. Satisfied with what he saw in the mirror, he struck a sexy pose and exited. 

_Nothing_ could've prepared me for what I saw when I was done in the bathroom, though. Ray was by the front door, kneeling as he helped Fraser do up the front of his...leather pants? Black leather pants with ties crisscrossing the front? 

"Oh my God!" I laughed, but only from surprise that it was Ben wearing them. "No, no," I said quickly when I saw his blush and the glare he gave Ray. "You look good...better than good. I've just never seen a Mountie in leather." 

"Yes, well." The color in his cheeks faded somewhat. "They were a gift, and it would be rude not to wear them occasionally. Besides, it's better to wear them here where none of our acquaintances will see me." 

Ray leered at him and wrapped the ties around his finger, giving them a final suggestive tug. "Good to go, Benton buddy." The heat between them flickered then flared. 

"Where are you guys going?" I asked Ben, trying to keep the smile off my face and my eyes off the pants. 

"Out. Pitter patter, Blair. C'mon, get dressed." Ray was bouncing around, mock punching the air restlessly. 

"Wh-" I shook my head. "I'm not really-" 

"Yes you are, Chief." Jim stood up from the couch and put the phone down. "We've decided that what we all need is a night out. Celebrate bringing House in and relax a little. I just called the cab, so get to it." 

I heard the words, but the meaning was lost on me. All I could see was Jim. Dressed in black from head to toe, you couldn't exactly call him _flashy_ , but the black leather belt with silver studs that I'd _never_ seen before added enough spark to the outfit to make him a clubbing God. 

"Sandburg?" 

"Uh, yeah, sorry, Jim." I headed upstairs, deciding that I'd better find something pretty good to be in the company of these guys. Jim followed me and sat on his bed while I dressed. 

"So, your first time at a gay club, huh?" I said curiously, not anticipating his stunned expression. 

"What? We're not going to a gay club." A bit panicked, Ellison? 

I slid my belt through the loops smoothly. "Come on, Jim. Ben and Ray probably want to dance, be together. They can't do that at a regular club. It's their vacation, and besides...I don't want you to be alone your first time _out there_ , you know? And I didn't really feel like picking up any ladies tonight." 

He feigned shock and a heart attack at my statement, which meant that I had to throw my dirty socks at him, triggering a fake, laughter-filled zoneout. The bastard. 

* * *

"You still like women, right?" 

That's what Blair asked me in the cab on the way to the club. We'd told the driver that we were headed for Trixie's and he hadn't even blinked; just given us his card and said to call him if we needed a ride home. 

I'd assured him that yes, I did like women. There was so much more that I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him about how it was just such a relief to have my secret out in the open, and a double relief to know that he's still my friend in spite of it. 

When we got there, we found a table close to the door. It was relatively quiet, as the hard-core cruisers were looking to sit as close to the back as possible. 

We all had drinks, bullshitted for a while, then Ray and Ben went off to dance. Ray insisted that Benton have at least two drinks before he get on the dance floor- "otherwise he's the tin man"- he'd said. They were already kissing before they even left our sight, and I saw Blair watching them. 

"They're going to be together forever," he said, a bit sadly. When I turned to check him, he had a smile, though. He looked different tonight. Probably because of the completely new looks that Ray and Fraser were sporting, he'd put on this silky burgundy top, as low cut as I'd ever seen for a guy. He'd done a good job choosing it, though, because it was intentionally low cut enough to show off a hairy chest like his. A tease was all it offered. And he'd opted for tight black jeans like mine. I guess that going out was going out no matter what kind of person you were trying for. 

"Hey, Jim," he said after a while, nudging me. We'd been watching everyone dance. "That guy is totally checking you out." 

"No." I quickly said. 

"Yeah, man." My gaze followed his to an attractive man about Blair's age. Looking at me, nodding to me, and about to come over here- 

"-Blair-" I said, panicked. 

He was coming over here. 

"Blair, no, I-" My mouth was dry, I couldn't tell him. This was supposed to be Blair's night, I couldn't leave him and- 

"...sorry," I heard myself say, "We're just about to dance." 

And then the stranger was gone, and I was safe except- I wasn't. 

"Dance, huh?" he grinned, taking one last gulp of his whiskey sour. "I've never seen you dance, unbelievably, after over three years of living together." 

"You were dancing the first time I met you, Chief," I said. "Well...the first time that you told me who you _really_ were." 

"I was?" 

"Yeah. You were dancing to some jungle music. That's what you called it, at least." I stood, just in case he'd been serious. If not, I could always say that I'd been heading for the bathroom. But he followed me all the way to the dance floor. We stayed on the edges. I just didn't like being in the middle of such a noisy crowd. 

As soon as we stood facing one another and I saw him start moving his body to the beat, my chest seized up- oh God. This was a mistake. 

"Blair, maybe we shouldn't." I looked around at all of the men, dancing so closely. Even Ray, who I could see across the room, was pressed up against Ben, gyrating his hips seductively against his partner. "Everyone is..." 

"No, you need to do this, come on." He took my hand and pulled me back, showing me how he wanted me to move with his body. Once I gave into him and the music, he smiled. "It's funny, Jim. You're uncomfortable here and you're gay, and I'm fine here and I'm...not gay." 

"Real funny," I replied, starting to relax. Most of the guys here were pretty good dancers, but Sandburg...he was something else to watch. Maybe it was because there wasn't anyone here that he was trying to impress. He was free, uninhibited, and the joy that he felt just from dancing was evident by the light in his eyes. 

When the music turned slow, we headed back to the table where Ben and Ray were already waiting for us with another round of drinks. We threw them back with a bit of a competitive edge to the act, and then ordered another. 

"So, Jim, you see anything you like yet?" Ray gave me a slow, meaningful smile and I shook my head quickly. Blair seemed amused. 

"Good!" Ray grinned and motioned for a tall, well-dressed man quite a bit younger than me to come over. "Jim, I'd like for you to meet Jason, Jason- my new friend Jim Ellison." When I looked at Ray in surprise at his statement, he was holding his glass high for a toast, which Blair joined in. It took them two tries to get the glasses to connect. 

When I looked back at him, his eyes were on me. _On_ me, as in physically burning a trail all over my body, and I stood up in response to the threatened feeling. 

"Want to dance?" he asked, and even though I would've much rather stayed at the table with my friends, I didn't want to seem like a wuss in front of them. 

Dancing came easier to me with the few drinks in my system, and I was able to enjoy the music, the atmosphere and the man that was rather presumptuously pressed up against me. Not that I really minded. He smelled of evergreen, I could smell the piney scent even with my senses dialed down to normal. I mentioned it and he laughed. 

"My brother owns a Christmas tree farm, and I was out there today. His wife was showing me how to, uh." He grinned sheepishly. "Make wreaths." 

I had no idea what to say, having no knowledge of wreath-making and really no opinion whatsoever on the matter. He seemed to know that and changed the subject, jerking his head toward my table. 

"Your friends seem to find us pretty damn fascinating. Are they always this interested in who you dance with?" 

I laughed. I'd felt their eyes all over us, too. "They want to make sure that I don't try any of my fancier moves on the dance floor." I paused, then added, "And that I don't scare you off. Which my dancing has been rumored to do, on occasion." 

"I don't think there's any chance of that happening here," he said, then grasped my hips with obvious intent, matching my rhythm to his, and I let him because it was different, but not in a bad way. We moved, turned and swayed together for two more songs, until we were both sweating and much to my surprise...hard. 

"Do you want to go outside for some air?" he asked, not letting go of my arm. Outside for air, everyone knew what _that_ meant, gay or straight. 

"No thanks, I'd better-" I looked at Blair, who was watching me. "We're kind of. Celebrating tonight." We said goodbye and I sat back down with the guys, who smiled knowingly at me. Except for Blair, who looked completely bewildered. 

"Something wrong, Chief?" I asked, swirling my ice around in my nearly empty glass. Time for another round. 

"No, no Jim it's just..." he shook his head. "Man, I want to dance! Isn't that why we're here? Come on." We all followed him as he shook his ass, arms raised, all the way out to the dance floor. He got more than one admiring look. 

It was a great night, better than one I'd had in a long time. We didn't go _out_ often, not to enjoy the nightlife, at least. We laughed and danced, sometimes silly, sometimes sexy. Always together. Ray had had a lot to drink and got into a pushing match with someone who he claimed had put his hands on Fraser, but the whole situation was diffused when a slender, rumpled young man who'd had too much to drink decided that he was too sexy for his- clothes. Everyone in the club stopped to gawk and applaud, even Blair. 

* * *

Who knew that I could have so much fun at a club without hitting on one woman? Maybe it was the relief of the case or the escape from my disappointment about Naomi, but I think that it was the company. Since we were together, we didn't get hit on too much. Jim danced with one guy other than us, but that was it. 

We laughed our asses off when a wasted, CK model looking guy started doing a comical striptease, but when he was down to his unfastened jeans, his mood shifted and his hand crept down to the white briefs that were partially revealed. Then his movements turned sexy; seductive. 

I heard Jim gasp, and even Ben and Ray were watching. Fraser seemed stunned, then embarrassed by Ray's subsequent whistles and catcalls at the young man. "What, Frase?" he griped when reprimanded. "That's why he's out there, aint it?" 

I think the guy was just about to get naked when his friends found him and ran onto the dance floor, gathering up his clothes and shepherding him off against his will. 

"What?" I asked Jim. I recognized that smirk. It meant that he was listening in on something. His hand ruffled through my hair curiously, then patted my shoulder. 

"He's saying that he has to go back and finish, otherwise they'll take his clothes and make him leave." 

"Who's they? He's on something, huh?" 

"Yup." 

I had to ask. "So...you liked that? I mean, I'm just curious because if there were a woman out there stripping like that...it'd fuel my fantasies for weeks. So I was just wondering..." 

"Wondering what?" He wasn't playing dumb, I didn't think. We were both well on our way to trashed. 

"If you thought that was hot." 

He frowned, then nodded slowly. "I guess it was. It would've been hotter if..." 

"If what?" I asked, breathlessly. 

"I'm not sure. If something." 

And for some reason that struck us both as hilarious, and we stood there laughing, leaning against each other for support and wiping at our bleary eyes. That was how Ray and Benton found us, to tell us they'd called a cab. The ride home was mostly loud and rowdy, but once we got home, the late night and drinking caught up with all of us. Even though we all normally liked the chore, it was rock, paper, scissors to see who took Princess outside. 

Jim and I drunkenly yet silently made our way up the stairs and got undressed for bed. It felt good to lie down between the cool sheets, and we were still finding things pretty funny. 

"Hey," I said, something occurring to me all of a sudden. "I don't have to sleep here. Naomi's gone." But I wanted to. Jim's bed was clean and spacious and oh yeah- he was in it. 

"You can stay. I want you to." He turned to face me; watch me. 

"Thanks. I had fun tonight." 

"Me too," he replied immediately. 

"How..." I settled onto my side to face him, too. He had two pillows, I had one. "What was it like dancing with that guy?" I asked, floating on a cloud comprised completely of whiskey sours. 

"It was ok." He shifted under the covers. I could smell the smoke from the club on us, probably in my hair most of all. 

"Bet I stink." 

"Nah. 'Sokay." But he was still watching me, making me self-conscious. 

"You're looking at me," I murmured, biting my lip. My lips were a bit numb from the alcohol. 

He continued to do so for a long time, so I made silly faces at him until he finally spoke. What he said wasn't at all what I expected, and neither was his serious tone. 

"Remember when I first met you?" he asked. 

"Are you kidding? It was a defining moment of my life, Jim. The Day I Found a Sentinel." 

His eyes roamed over my face, every time going back to my mouth, which I bit at again. He seemed to be deciding whether or not to tell me something. I hoped that he would. We lay there together, ensconced in a bubble of stillness and intimacy. Time slowed, my breathing slowed, and Jim's rigid barriers fell away. 

"The day before I met you," he whispered, "It was really bad. I thought I was going crazy, and I didn't have-" he coughed, stalling. "I didn't have anyone. Not really." 

He looked at me some more and I scooted closer, till our breaths mingled. No one can hear you, Jim, I thought. It's safe to tell me. I _want_ to know. But I remained silent. 

The hurt etched on his face was something new, something he didn't normally let me see, and I wondered if it was a good idea to let him reminisce like this when he'd been drinking so much. But he continued. "And the day before I met you, I came up here, and I lay down on my bed and just...gave up. I lay there for hours and hours just willing my body to quit, only I knew that wouldn't happen, in my head at least. I knew that I was going to have to do something. Anything, to just end the pain." 

"Jesus, Jim," I breathed, my hand automatically coming up to his arm. Human response, I reasoned. Comfort the hurting. 

He nodded. "And then I met you." Oh God, those eyes, sometimes playful, sometimes hard, but never hungry and pain-filled like this. 

I wanted to give something back, share something, some part of myself like he had, something to keep us in this moment for as long as possible. Because I'd never shared a moment like this with anyone. 

"Jim," I whispered, and he was looking at my mouth again, so it struck me that this was the best way, the _only_ way to share my love with my partner. Because in spite of the pretenses, we'd come to this point of our own free will because we _wanted_ to. So I wiggled closer still, hooked my leg over his, and took his mouth with mine. 

"Blair," he murmured against my mouth. "Blair, I want you." And there was such longing in those words that it almost hurt because this very well could've _not_ happened, and then he would've gone around shouldering the burden of deep want. Wanting is a such a terrible burden. 

"Me too," I replied. And it was true. I wanted to touch my Sentinel so deeply that he'd never feel that want again, and for him to touch me deep enough to know me, and know that my feelings for him were genuine, boundless, and at the moment...very, very hot. 

Slowly, we began to move against one another, not humping or anything like that, just trying to get _closer_. Plus, it felt really good. The touch of his skin against mine...it was like the first time I'd ever touched a naked body, shocking and electrifying. We shed our underwear while still kissing, and I marveled over the way we kissed. Never before had I shared kisses so open, wet, and urgent. 

Our cocks were rubbing between us, making me weak, desperate, horny as hell as the feelings swelled. But that was almost an aside. The main event was going on on the pillows, between Jim and I. Long, endless kisses during which we exchanged mumbled confessions and promises. 

The covers were tangled, much like our limbs when the buildup became too much and we continued our slow movements, together, together, together, until- 

"Blair, Blair I love you," Jim hissed into my ear, making a sobbing sound and shuddering helplessly against me. Liquid heat dripped down my side, breaking my control as I shook in his arms, sharing that one last piece of myself with my partner, my lover, my Sentinel. 

I couldn't stop holding onto him after that, and he still seemed just as desperate to keep me close to him. We drifted off as we were. 

* * *

I woke up feeling considerably less romantic than I had felt at the time I'd fallen asleep. I didn't usually get hangovers, but my head hurt and my chest and stomach were covered with dried semen. Like I said, not romantic. 

Lucky for me, Blair was still snoring softly, and after taking one last curious peek under the covers at him, I walked, zombie-like, down to the shower. I don't remember showering, dressing or going back upstairs, but I do know that somehow I did it. 

He squinted at me from his position propped up on one elbow. "Hi." 

"Hi." 

"So, what happened to 'If I'm going to be gay, it's not going to be because of you?'" he asked quietly. But I could hear the smile beneath the question. 

"What can I say, I guess you've got some kind of influence over me." And I didn't mind admitting it. 

"Hum, mind if I exert a little more of that influence right now?" 

"Does this mean you're about to start abusing your power?" 

"As often as possible, man." 

End 

* * *

End Gray by Lily: lily2332@mindspring.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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